


I try to picture me without you but I can't

by Treesofmyheart



Series: Demise [3]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: (e.g minecraft traps and fights lol), (implied) - Freeform, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Chains, Comfort, Developing Relationship, Fighting, Fluff, Hermitcraft demise, I love demise can you tell?, Idiots in Love, Killing, Kissing, Love, M/M, Magic, Swords, Traps, demise - Freeform, dont ship real people, minecraft personas ONLY, respawning though dw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21795886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treesofmyheart/pseuds/Treesofmyheart
Summary: “Mumbo, you total spoon, they’ll kill you if they find you here!”-----------------------------------Grian's dead. He's gone. He's grey.But Mumbo can't leave him.They need each other.And even if it means defending themselves against the dangers that lurk in the deadquarters; grey, vicious, and menacing, or Grian's monochrome teammates, or the lingering magic of demise; twisting and corrupting...They'll find each other. They'll protect each other.And they'll be okay.Hopefully.
Relationships: Mumbo Jumbo/Grian
Series: Demise [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586395
Comments: 30
Kudos: 205





	1. Into the Deadquarters

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> For some context, this story is set on the hermitcraft server but it's more... real. While players can respawn it takes a few days and is very painful. They don't have much way of communicating other than letters and notes etc. Also, demise is magic.  
> This story is set midway through the game of Demise. So, in case you were interested, the greyskins are:  
> Grian  
> TangoTek  
> ImpulseSV  
> Cubfan135  
> GoodTimesWithScar  
> iJevin  
> XisumaVoid  
> StressMonster101  
> ReNDoG 
> 
> And the alive players are:  
> BdoubleO100  
> Docm77  
> Iskall85  
> JoeHills  
> MumboJumbo  
> Keralis  
> TinFoilChef  
> ZombieCleo  
> FalseSymmetry 
> 
> Don't worry! No need to memorise the list (it will change lol)  
> Ty for reading x

Mumbo stares up at the Deadquarters, mouth hanging open in amazement. The towering mansion, the floating island, the tumbling waterfalls… It’s incredible.

And terrifying.

He glances about, fingers clutching tightly around his sword, hoping that none of the Greyskins will see him. It's _so_ dangerous to be here, _especially_ at night. But he must risk it. He must. For Grian.

His heart aches at the thought of him. At the thought of his body, lifeless and cold, laying there on the stone inside the cave, brutally trapped and blown up. Why was it _Grian,_ of all people? How could it have been him?

Mumbo steps forward, readying his elytra, checking the straps and gripping tight to his fireworks and totem of undying, then starts his run-up, wings flaring out behind him. He’s used to this, the launching, the fireworks sizzling, the rush of air past his face. But he’s never been this terrified. Even since demise started, he hasn’t worried too much. But now, there’s too much that could go wrong. His elytra could break, or not deploy, or the fireworks could explode wrong, or someone might hear him.

Mumbo’s wings open and he lifts off the ground. It’s a perfect takeoff, and despite the loud noise of the firework, he hopes it’s nothing the greyskins aren’t already used to. He angles himself upwards, gliding quickly towards the entrance hall of the massive spooky mansion, and lands silently on the blood-red carpet just inside the threshold.

It’s quiet as Mumbo creeps forward. Immediately he sees a crater in the corridor; lined with a simple redstone-activated mechanism and filled with bubbling lava. He gulps, carefully edging around the side and deeper into the dark hallway. There’s a smell in the air, of something old and sort of smoky, like someone long ago had an accident with a torch or a campfire and the mess still hasn’t been cleaned up. When he comes to the end of the corridor, he has a choice; right, left, or up the stairs.

He turns left. The first room is some sort of map room, which he checks and then swiftly leaves, not wanting to activate any kind of traps or alarms. Mumbo then makes his way down a short flight of stairs to another room. It’s dark, too dark to see, so he pulls out a redstone torch and holds it up, squinting in the faint red light. It’s a room with a lot of mechanisms; like racks on the floors and walls, with plenty of tools hanging up on the far wall. He shudders at the thought of what they might be used for.

Then there’s a sharp inhalation from the corner and Mumbo freezes, blood running cold. He snuffs out the torch, holding his breath, and edges towards where the sound came from. In the gloom, he can only just make out a small shape curled up on a low table. It shifts, raising its head towards him, and mumbo nearly chokes.

“Grian!” He gasps, running over, relighting the redstone torch to see more clearly. Grian is curled up on the table, slowly sitting up to face Mumbo. One of his hands is shackled to the wall with a short length of chain, and his face is grey _,_ Mumbo realises. Logically he knew that would happen but seeing him here, like _this_ , sends ice through his heart.

“Mumbo, what are you… what are you doing here?” Grian hisses worriedly, reaching out for Mumbo’s hand. It’s _so_ cold.

“Grian, I-” He trails off, gripping tightly to Grian’s hand. “I had to- I had to see you.”

Grian smiles sadly. “Mumbo, you total spoon, they’ll kill you if they find you here!”

“I know, I know, but I… I couldn’t bear not seeing you. I don’t want my last memory of you to be of you screaming and dy- and dying- and-” Mumbo’s breath hitches and he presses his face into Grian’s neck, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Grian holds him tightly, cold fingers tracing circles onto his back.

“I’m sorry, Mumbo. I should have checked for traps, or had another totem, or something…thank you for coming to see me.”

Mumbo just hugs him. He wishes they could stay like this forever, safe in each other’s arms.

“But really, Mumbo, you need to go. They shackled me here because I tried to disarm some of the traps… I think they know I can’t bear to let any of you get hurt.”

“Grian, I can break the shackle open,” Mumbo says, pulling back, hands on Grian’s shoulders, “We could go, we could _leave_.”

Grian shakes his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Mumbo. I can’t leave this place. Demise still holds our souls, and if l left… Well, I’d either never get my living body back, or lose my soul altogether. I have to stay here, and… and be a greyskin. I’m sorry, Mumbo. Really.”

There’s a noise from upstairs. Footsteps on the carpet, then footsteps coming down the stairs. Mumbo’s eyes widen and he looks around for another exit, but there’s nothing. Grian looks up, having also heard the noise, and grabs Mumbo’s hand.

“Behind that rack on the wall, there’s a tunnel out of the mansion, go, please, quickly!” He hisses, and then abruptly pulls mumbo down by the collar of his shirt to press a kiss to his lips. There’s no time to react as Grian grins and pushes Mumbo away, pointing towards the rack. So he runs, hearing shouts behind him. An arrow whizzes past his head as he wrenches the rack away from the wall, diving into the tunnel and out into the early morning air. He’s falling, but he kick starts his elytra and rockets away, still hearing shouting behind him.

The shouting quickly fades as he soars away, flying for what feels like hours until his rockets run out and he needs to land. It’s only then, when he’s kneeling in a birch forest, catching his breath, when the image of Grian’s lips on his resurfaces. He gasps, fingers grazing his lips where Grian had kissed him.

That chaotic, beautiful, bastard. Now Mumbo _had_ to go back.


	2. Grian pays a visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grian, feeling his soul be slowly overtaken by the darkness that is demise, heads out into the night. Of course, he goes to Mumbo. Where else would he go?

“Okay, Greyskins. Welcome back to the meeting room.” Cub stands at the head of the long table, facing the whole team. Ren is sitting at his side, leant back on a chair, legs up on the table. “Let’s start with the basics. X, how are you getting on with the idea boys?”

Cub nods at Xisuma, who starts telling the Greyskins all about his ‘devious’ plan involving Keralis and Bdubs. Grian watches, at the far end of the table, not saying a word. It’s been over a week since he was killed in the Dragon Bro cave, and the last remnants of his scales are fading away, being replaced with the cold greyness he’s come to associate with being dead. This is his first meeting with the rest of the greyskins, and he doesn’t really know how to feel.

Demise, the magical effect that’s trapped the hermits for a few months now, has been taking its victims one by one. Grian was the ninth person to be killed, blown up by an inescapable TNT trap set by Tango and Cub himself. It feels so strange, to be sitting here surrounded by the grey faces of his old friends. But they seem… different, now that they’re dead.

It’s not just that their laughs seem ominous, and their smiles seem to hide secrets and malice. It’s not just their buildings; tall, floating haunted mansions, houses on hills overcome by lightning, sprawling graveyards and crypts. And it’s not just the way they plan and make traps to try and get the ‘warmbloods’.  
When they talk, there’s a kind of ferocity behind their eyes that Grian had never seen. It’s vicious, and it’s frightening, to say the least.

And sometimes when he lies in bed, he can feel it too- that dark magic of Demise creeping closer to his heart, begging him to make a kill, to lay a trap, to steal a life. That crawling greyness that first overtakes their images, and then their hearts. He can see it in Ren, and Cub. They’re not who they used to be. Ren’s laugh pierces through his heart with such a fear that when he hears it, he has to resist the urge to run. Cub _craves_ the death of the warmbloods; setting as many traps as he can, carrying his sharpest sword and most powerful TNT with him at all times.

He knows it’s the magic of Demise. It’s pushing them all to kill, to murder, to lie in wait. And he hates it. And every day it feels like he’s a step closer to losing control.

“Okay, did you all get that? The secret Santa sleigh; that’s our target, okay?”

Grian sits up suddenly, realising he’d zoned out. Stress glances over at him, flashes him a smile, but it’s still so _cold._

He needs to go.

Not for long, of course. Demise has gripped his soul now, and to leave the Deadquarters for longer than a day or two would surely kill him, permanently. But he definitely needs some air.

As everyone is filing out, he runs to the storage room, tearing open a chest to find some elytra and rockets. When he’d first died, he’d tried to run, by flying away, and Ren had dragged him back to the base. Cub had ordered for him to be tied up in the cellar for a day or two so the magic could properly take hold of his soul. Running wouldn’t be an option then.

But he’s not running this time, Grian tells himself, as he straps on the wings and races around the corner out of the front entrance of the deadquarters and launches himself out. He dives through the sky, relishing the feeling of air on his face, and the wind in his hair. It feels _so good_ to be out of that stuffy place, to be away from the Greyskins and their dastardly plans.

He’s been flying for almost ten minutes when he realises where his wings are taking him. Over the swamps and mountains, past forests and icy wastes, and over an open ocean. Mumbo’s base looms in the distance, vast and towering and _glowing,_ thanks to the thousands of lanterns and lamps Mumbo set up ages and ages ago. Grian remembers helping him light up the seafloor; diving down together with pickles in hand to plant them. It had taken _so long_ , but the effect was absolutely worth it. His base and the surrounding ocean absolutely _shine._

He lands silently, expertly folding his elytra behind him, and treads softly over to Mumbo’s chests. It doesn’t seem like he’s here right now, so Grian takes a seat on one of the chests, pulling himself up, and lays back, staring up at the sky.

His mind immediately flickers to that moment, a few days ago, when Mumbo had _visited him_. He’d risked his life to come to him. And he had been so caring, so concerned, even though Grian was _dead._ Grian is a Greyskin. And still, Mumbo had come.

Spoon.

He smiles, turning to the side, feeling the echoes of Mumbo’s lips on his. It sparks something warm inside of him, but there’s also fear there. What if he’d scared Mumbo off? What if he didn’t want Grian… in that way? What if-

A muffled screech startles him out of his thoughts, enough to send him tumbling off the pile of chests and onto the quartz floor. Pain smashes through his shoulder, but he shrugs it off, sitting up. Mumbo is in front of him, hands over his mouth, eyes wide.

“Grian, oh my word, _you scared me!_ ” He laughs, almost breathless, reaching out a hand to help Grian up. “I just turned a corner, and there was a _greyskin_ on my chests!”

Grian flashes him a grin, climbing to his feet.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Mumbo. Are you okay?”

Mumbo smiles warmly and brings him into a hug that knocks the air from Grian’s lungs. He’s so, so, warm. He wraps his arms around Mumbo, feeling his face flush.

“Me? I’m fine. Did you hurt yourself when you landed, though?” Mumbo steps back, hands still on Grian’s shoulders, looking him over. Grian laughs, stepping sideways away from Mumbo, trying to disguise the fact his cheeks are quickly darkening. He has a feeling its much more obvious now he’s totally greyscale.

“I’m good. Sorry for scaring you.”

They stand like that, for a second, frozen.

“Mumbo, I-”

“Grian-”

“You first.”

“No, no. You- you go.”

“I- uh- okay.”

Mumbo’s hand reaches up to his neck, and he glances to the side.

“The other day, in the deadquarters… When I left and you- and you-” He coughs. “When you kissed me, was that a thing you want? Because I mean I hadn’t thought about it and we’ve known each other so long and I think I didn’t realise how much I love being around you and if that’s something you’d want I’d love to I think and it doesn’t matter that you’re demised you’re still really cute and we could just keep it a secret or not I don’t know what do you think?”

Grian stares at him, caught off guard at the waterfall of words that just tumbled out of Mumbo’s mouth.

“You… even though I’m… Mumbo, I…”

Mumbo’s face is very red as he steps over and slots his lips into Grian’s. His hand cups Grian’s chin, fingers so warm against his skin. He wonders why Mumbo would even want to kiss him when he’s like this, cold and dead, but the gentle press of his lips quiets that thought almost immediately. After a second or two, Mumbo pulls away.

“Mumbo…” Grian breathes. “You really want this? Even though I’m… Even though I’m supposed to be your enemy?”

Mumbo’s hand grips his, cupping tightly around his fingers.

“I trust you, Grian. We can keep this a secret. It’s going to be okay.”

“Yes. I swear, I won’t set any traps here at all, or at the industrial district, or-”

“Grian. Please, stay safe, okay? And… stay you.”

Mumbo’s expression is _so_ soft and gentle that it breaks his heart to know he’ll have to go soon.

How could he say no?


	3. Corridor of death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragon bros try to set a trap at the Deadquarters to hold off the Greyskins, but danger lurks behind every corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,  
> Just to let you know, this chapter contains violence and mentions blood. If that's not something you're comfortable with I'd recommend you don't read any further, as this story is going to get pretty intense. I mean, come on. Demise is a game of killing people, so what did you expect?

Iskall is _singing._ It’s that stupid Dragon Bros song, _again,_ and it makes Mumbo want to tear his hair out.

“Dragon bros! Dragon bros! Does whatever a dragon bro does! Can you bro-”

“ISKALL, PLEASE!”

Mumbo snaps, and Iskall laughs.

“Sorry, Mumbo! I just thought we could do with lightening the mood a little, you know?”

Mumbo grumbles an answer and moves up to talk with False and Bdubs. They’re adventuring through the swamp, crossing over squelching ground and leaping over lily pads. Soon, they’ll be approaching the deadquarters, and at that point, Iskall will _have_ to shut up. There’s no way they can afford to be caught by the Greyskins this time.

This _has_ to work.

Their plan is to trap the deadquarters against the Greyskins; rigging their own redstone against them. They may already be dead, but killing them again and forcing them to spend a few days respawning could be absolutely _vital_ for the living Hermits. So it’s up to them; The Dragon Bros. Mumbo, Iskall, False, and Bdubs.

Mumbo grimaces, thinking back to the time when Grian was included on that list.

His scales had been fading when Mumbo last saw him. That was one of the most upsetting things; watching the magic of Demise overtake the magic of the Dragon Bros. Mumbo reaches up to run his fingers along the curling horns that protruded from his head, tracing over the ridges. It’s only been a day since he’d last seen Grian, and he already misses him.

They’d not had enough _time,_ that was the problem. Grian had to leave before long, feeling the energy sapped from him the further away from the deadquarters and the other Greyskins he got. But being with him, kissing him, running his hands through Grian’s hair… that was worth any time he would have to wait.

He just hopes their trap won’t get Grian.

The Deadquarters materialises out of the fog, looming and huge. The Dragon bros ready their elytra and rockets, launching into the sky. False, hair flowing out behind her, pulls the goggles over her eyes and makes a thumbs-up symbol as she flies. Iskall and Bdubs do the same, and Mumbo grins, already feeling that familiar rush that comes with flying straight into a mission. His heart beats fast and his palms are sweaty, but he knows this will be okay. They’ll pull it off. They’re Dragon Bros.

The four of them touch down on the podzol and sneak around the back, climbing in through the scaffolding of the back entrance. Wings folded carefully behind him, Mumbo holds his breath as he opens the small hatch leading to the first floor. He peeks out, scanning the dark hallway for movement.

There’s nothing.

He cautiously climbs out of the hatch, waving the others up, and, with his back to the wall, walks over to the bubbling lava pit. The redstone wiring surrounding it has been revealed, and he eyes it, mind already whirring. He could simply reset it, or he could rewire it, or he could put it on a timer, or…

He glances over his shoulder. False and Bdubs are standing on guard, watching each branching corridor as Iskall gets to work on the potion dispenser system, toolbelt strapped around his waist.

They’ve been working for about ten minutes when something in the air shifts, and there’s the tiniest squeak from behind him. Mumbo whips around, his screwdriver dropping to the ground as he goes for his sword.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mumbo.”

Tango says, holding Iskall to him, gleaming diamond sword held to his throat. Iskall is frozen in fear, hands empty and still covered in a faint dusting of gleaming redstone. His sword is at his side, hanging from his belt, but if he moves, he’ll almost certainly get Tango’s sword through his neck.

Mumbo’s stomach drops. Ever so slowly, he glances to the left, where Bdubs is being held similarly by Impulse. Bdub’s sword is on the ground, is fall muffled by the thick carpeting. His eyes are wide as he stares at Mumbo, hoping he’ll be able to rescue them.

_Oh my word oh my word oh my word-_

Mumbo is _not good_ at fighting. Redstone is his thing! And also Iskall’s thing. And Bdubs isn’t really a fighter either, and False-

_False!_ Mumbo realises. False is nowhere to be seen, and she’s probably the best fighter they have.

“Tango…” He says, holding up his hands. “Impulse, Tango, don’t-”

“Don’t tell us what to do, Warmblood,” Tango says, holding Iskall tighter, the sword pressing into his throat even harder. Mumbo’s hands are shaking as he tries to stall, hoping that False will get here soon.

“Yeah, Mumbo. Now, listen-”

A flash of a lens from the stairs above is all the warning Mumbo gets before False leaps down from them, sword high in the air. She catches Tango off guard, knocking the sword away from Iskall and planting the hilt of her sword into Tango’s chin. At the same time, Mumbo launches himself forward, elytra catching the air, and grabs Bdubs in a downwards motion. It’s not nearly as slick as False’s rescue but he manages to yank Bdubs away from the blade while Impulse is distracted. He stumbles, back against the wall, helping Bdubs get to his feet, and looks up at Impulse.

Impulse’s eyes flash once, and he smirks. And then he charges.

Mumbo only just gets his sword up in time to deflect the blow. Bdubs scrambles out of the way, grabbing his sword from the floor. Impulse lunges at Mumbo, swinging with a ferocity Mumbo’s never seen before. He fights back, though, blocking and dodging where he can, with Bdubs at his side. But Impulse is relentless, and his skill with the blade is a force to be reckoned with. Even though it’s a two versus one, they’re very evenly matched. Across the room, Mumbo can hear False snarling as she and Tango fight; a whirlwind of blades and fists.

Mumbo shoves his elbow into Impulse’s side, shouting at Bdubs to try and grab him. There’s no way they can kill him, but they could try and subdue them. He wrestles with Impulse’s right arm, knocking the sword from his grip and clutching him. Bdubs does the same and they strain to try and hold him there. Mumbo risks a glance over his shoulder at False, who slams the pommel of her sword into Tango’s head. He drops like a sack of bricks, falling unconscious to the floor. She stares at him, breathing heavily, blood dripping down from a cut on her forehead and onto her cheek.

She looks over at Mumbo, and by the tilt of her head and the way her sword is raised, Mumbo can tell what she’s asking. He hesitates, looking down at Tango’s crumpled form, then slowly nods.

In his arms, Impulse growls as he struggles. His snarls become desperate once he sees False, blade in hand, but Mumbo and Bdubs hold him back.

“Don’t worry, Impulse. He- He’ll respawn soon.”

False raises her sword, brow furrowed, lip quivering. But before she can, there’s a shout, and a flurry of movement. From halfway down the corridor, a shape flies towards her, blade in hand, teeth bared in anger. The greyskin slams her against the wall before Mumbo can make any move to help her, burying a sword into her chest with a dreadful roar.

She drops to her knees, collapsing on the carpet, pulling the sword from her chest. Blood is already soaking through her shirt. The Greyskin freezes, mouth dropping open in horror, and backs away, legs almost giving out.

Mumbo forgets about him and Impulse and runs towards False.

“Someone get a healing potion! Someone get a- oh my word- someone get a healing potion!”

His voice cracks as he drops to his knees over her body. Her eyes are closed, and she’s not breathing as blood soaks the red carpet.

“Oh my god, False, no, False-”

Iskall whimpers, pulling out a splash healing potion. The red mist surrounds her, wrapping around her body, building up around the wound, and then-

It fades. And False is dead.

He looks up at the Greyskin who killed her, who’s at the end of the hallway, hands held up to his mouth. It’s hard to make out who it is in the gloom but his stomach drops when he sees him, bile beginning to rise in his throat.

“Grian?”

The word is just a whisper, filled with undeniable pain.

Grian’s eyes fill with tears as he turns and runs, disappearing into the gloom.

Mumbo almost screams in frustration and grief, as he grabs Iskall and Bdubs’ arms, heaving them out of the front entrance of the Deadquarters.

Their elytra activate, and they shoot away. Mumbo looks over his shoulder where Tango and Impulse wait at the entrance of the deadquarters, swords still drawn.

It’s not until they’re far, far away that he notices the blood covering his hands and his shirt. He doesn’t even know who’s it is.


	4. Red handed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grian struggles with the aftermath of his actions, and has a ‘Talk’ with Cub.

He needs to get out. He needs to get away. He needs to run, or fly, as far as he can.

But he can’t.

Grian hugs his knees tightly to his chest, breathing quickly, as he sits on his bunk in the deadquarters. Across from him, he watches as False lays sleeping on her bed. They’re the only two up here in the bedrooms, with all the other grey skins out planning and plotting, but he hasn’t said a word to her yet. 

All he can think about, all he sees when he closes his eyes, is her blood. On the carpet, on his sword, on his hands. That raging anger that had hit him with such a force when he’d seen False lift her sword to kill Tango...

It was unlike anything he’d ever known.

And he didn’t even try to resist. He  murdered  False, driven by that irresistible ferocity to protect, to defend, to kill. 

She looks okay now though. He can’t see the scar from where she was stabbed, and despite being totally monochrome she looks healthy. Peaceful. 

Grian wants to scream. The guilt tastes bitter in his mouth, sends images of False’s expression as she died, or the sword slashing across her chest, or of Mumbo’s face; stricken in horror and confusion and grief.

He can’t go to him now. No way. Mumbo probably would never ever want to see him again.

But he still needs to get out. 

Grian gets up, grabbing his elytra, and leaves the room, decidedly not looking at False.

Instead of heading down the stairs to the main entrance he heads up a small secret ladder to the roof.

The wind is harsh up here when he clambers up, and the fog is heavy in the air. It’s late afternoon, and the sunset is giving the fog a faint pink glow off in the west.

Climbing to the top of one of the ridges of the tall stone roof, he sits for a moment, staring out across the small village and the rest of the swamp. He can see Scar over to the right, a tiny dot flying in and around his spooky mansion, carrying shulker boxes in and out.

Xisuma is building a new shop down below, hauling diorite into position, carefully writing signs and filling chests.

They look so  peaceful . They  are  peaceful people. And when Demise is over, when they’re all dead, when there’s no one to try and kill, maybe it’ll all go back to normal.

Maybe if it all goes back to normal Mumbo will forgive him and they can forget about Demise and the deadquarters and the Greyskins.

Maybe then it’ll be okay.

Grian closes his eyes and sighs.

But what if it’s not ? What if they all die and then they’re all grey and aggressive and feral forever? What if they turn on one another? What if they all die and respawn and die and respawn and  hate eachother forever?

Grian shivers. 

This needs to end. It needs to be over. Demise has trapped them for so long, and Grian needs to find out how to stop the magic binding them.

He stands up, the wind blowing his hair, and takes out his rockets. He runs, and gets ready to jump, and-

“Grian.”

Grian yells out, toppling off the roof In a less than elegant take off. He plummets for a few seconds then opens his wings, firing himself up into the sky above the roof where Cub is standing, arms crossed.

Grian glides down, landing gently before Cub.

“Where are you going?”

“Cub! Hi, I was just- I was just heading out to make some traps! You know, a good pufferfish trap. Or lava? Yeah, a lava”-

Cub laughs, and for a second Grian feels relieved that Cub believes him.And then the laugh turns cruel and grating, and Grian finds himself taking a few steps back.

“Grian. You’re literally terrible at redstone. You don’t need to make a trap!” Cub claps a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “Come out  hunting  with me. I saw how you dealt with False. That was amazing, and exactly the kind of ruthlessness we’ll need!”

The horror Grian feels must show up on his face because Cub’s eyes feel like they’re piercing into his soul.

“Hu-hunting? Like, going out to k-kill?”

Cub nods, smile across his face.

“Yeah. I can give you one of my enchanted swords, if you want. It’s got sharpness V. It wouldn’t take many hits to take out a warmblood. We just gotta find one.”

Grian steps back, away from Cub’s hand, heart hammering in his chest.

“Sorry, Cub. I’m not- I couldn’t- I’m not gonna murder my friends!”

His fingers grip a rocket; he knows he can escape if he needs to.

Cub stalks towards him, expression quickly turning fiery. His finger jabs into Grian’s chest. 

“They. Are not. Your friends! Who’s side are you on? Where do you keep sneaking off to?” He grips the collar of Grian’s jumper. “Convince me right now that you’re not in league with the  filthy fucking warmbloods .”

Grian cries out, yanking himself away from Cub, scrambling back along the roof.

“I’m not with them, I swear. I’m just. I’m just having trouble adjusting to being dead!”

“You seemed pretty adjusted yesterday when you murdered False.”

The comment hits Grian like a punch to the gut. 

“I’m not- that wasn’t- that wasn’t me, Cub!” He says, desperately.

“It wasn’t?” His brow furrows.

“No, well, I mean, It was  me,  but I didn’t mean to do it! I didn’t want to!” 

“Grian. You’re a Greyskin. That feeling you got yesterday, that’s what we  are.  Don’t you see? The rest of us have learnt to accept what being undead has done to us. We’ve learnt to accept that the violence is part of us.”

“Cub, please. This isn’t you! This isn’t what the others are like, either!You’re good people!”

“Are we?”

Cub cocks his head, a sinister smile on his face. Grian’s stomach drops as he feels someone grab him from behind. They’re strong, and despite his struggles he can’t escape their grip. Then there’s another pair of hands on his elytra, ripping the straps away from him.

“Sorry, Grian. This is for your own good, okay?”

Xisuma’s voice is soft by his ear, but he still hears the threat in his voice.

“X, please, you don’t understand! It’s demise! Demise is controlling you! Please!”

Cub stands there, arms crossed. 

“Xisuma, Stress, take him down to the dungeon, please. I think Ren was right. The warmbloods will almost definitely respond to a cry for help from this traitor. Then we’ll get them. We’ll get them all.”


	5. The rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mumbo recruits some Alive hermits to help him rescue Grian, but danger lurks in the dungeons that he may not be ready for...

Mumbo is sitting on the roof of Sahara, staring off into the distance, when Iskall brings in the letter. 

Well, it’s more of a scrap of paper, and half of it has been pecked with holes by the green parrot that brought it to them. The writing is small and scratchy, and yeah, okay, it looks like Grian’s. 

“What do you think, Mumbo? Do you think it’s just a terrible trap?”

“I don’t know, Iskall. I- he wouldn’t send us a letter for help and get us trapped, would he?”

“I didn’t think he would kill False, though.”

Mumbo clenches a fist at his side, setting his jaw into a line.

“No, I guess not. But look at this bit here, he’s talking about, about ‘ _ the demise magic is trying to take me over. The others have already given in to it, it’s like the instinct to be violent and to kill. I’m so, so, sorry about False. I wasn’t in control. It want me. I swear to you, it wasn’t me.’”_

Mumbo reads it aloud to Iskall, who nods. It makes sense that it’s some sort of magic effect, not just the hermits playing along with a joke. Before demise he’s sure none of them would have tried to hurt a fly. 

“But if he’s turning violent, is it a good idea to rescue him?”

“We can’t  leave  him, Iskall. He’s literally begging us for help, I’m not just going to ignore that... Even if he is dead, he doesn’t have to be a Greyskin... right?”

Iskall narrows his eyes.

“Did you have a thing for him before all of this?”

Mumbo nearly falls over in surprise.

“What?”

“Before Demise? Did you like Grian? Like,  _like_ like?”

Mumbo can barely stammer out a reply.

“Iskall, i- he didn’t- we didn’t- I- “

“I’m just saying, Bro. He’s dead. You can’t let yourself distracted by- by people you can’t have.”

“I know, Iskall. Sorry. But seriously, I do think we should believe him. If the Greyskins are threatening him and keeping him prisoner, then, dead or not, crush or not, he needs to be rescued, right?”

Iskall pats him on the shoulder and nods. 

“If you want to do this, I’ll be by your side. We’re Dragon Bros, and we’ll stick together.”

“Thanks, Iskall. I think- I think we’re gonna need backup, though. Can you get Bdubs and Keralis?”

“Sure. At sunset this evening, let’s go.”

Mumbo hugs him, and tucks the letter in his pocket. Then he dives off the side of the building, wings spreading behind him.

* * *

“Okay.” Mumbo tells them, a few hours later, “Just to reiterate. This is a stealth mission above all, and its a good idea to avoid getting into a scrap with any Greyskin. Demise has made them, uh, ruthless. If a fight does break out, it’s really important that we stick together. If there’s four of us and two of them, we can definitely hold them off and escape. And more than anything we need to  live.  If we get discovered, forget the mission.  Stay alive and _get out._ We can try again.”

This is going to be fine, Mumbo tells himself. It’s going to be fine. 

They’re gonna rescue Grian, and get out, and then-

And then what? His mind replays Grian’s attack on False in excruciating detail and it’s difficult to shake off the feeling that it might all be a trap.

No. It’s going to be fine. This time, they’ve got backup. 

After their final checks on equipment and elytra, they launch into the sky. It’s dark and they’re fast, so they’ll be difficult to spot against the night sky. 

The Deadquarters, as always, looms up ahead, and he hears Keralis gasp. It’s his first time here, Mumbo realises.

When they land on the roof, a silence passes over them. This is it. They can do this. But this could be it.

Mumbo directs them down into the deadquarters, and they make their way down the stairs into the stone dungeon. All is quiet; there’s no sign of any movement or traps. 

He signals for the others to stand guard at the stairs of the dungeon, and heads down.

It’s dark, but Mumbo knows where to go now. There’s a stale, damp smell in the air as he rounds the corner of the dark room.

The machines and contraptions are still in place, unused, but over in the far corner he spots a small shape, huddled against the wall.

He creeps over to them, heart thumping in his chest. The person moves, head snapping up in surprise, and Mumbo holds out his hand, smiling warmly.

“Grian! It’s me, we’re here, don’t worry!”

He whispers. A look of confusion passes over Grian’s face. 

“M-mumbo? Why are you..?”

“Your letter?”

Grian’s face drops at the same time Mumbo’s stomach does. Grian leaps up and grabs Mumbo’s hand, panic nearly overtaking him.

“Mumbo! You need to get out of here! Its a-“

And then the the world blows up around them, and everything goes white.


	6. Freefall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A battle rages at the deadquarters. Who will survive?

He’s falling. Plummeting through the sky, with no elytra or rockets. Grian screams, flailing his arms but to no avail. The ground is quickly rising to meet him and he squeezes his eyes shut, bracing for impact, holding his breath-

Someone slams into him from the side, holding him around the waist and soaring upwards into the sky. Grian almost cries out with relief, clinging on for dear life.

“Grian? Are you okay?”

Mumbo says from above him, panting slightly.

“Ohmygod, Mumbo. Thank you, I-“

Mumbo squeezes him tightly, still flying higher, up into the sky past the floating deadquarters.

“Hold on, okay? I need to get back down there. It- it was a trap. Someone had laid down TNT and it exploded and broke the floor of the dungeon and I don’t know if people got hurt but you fell through the hole and I couldn’t just  leave you , but I can’t-“

Mumbo’s voice is thick with emotion and Grian can almost hear his inner turmoil as they land on the roof.

“Mumbo,  go . Who’s here? We need to get them out.”

“It’s me, Iskall, Bdubs and Keralis.”

As of on cue, Iskall rockets up past them, Keralis clinging to him. One of the wings of his elytra is broken and it hangs limply as Iskall deposits him on the roof. 

He and Mumbo make eye contact.

“I’ll get Bdubs. Don’t worry. We’re gonna be okay.” Mumbo tells him, then dives out of sight.

Alone on the roof with the two of them, Grian begins to walk forward, but Iskall holds out his hand, eyes narrowing.

“You- you sent that letter. Why did you trap us?”

Grian’s knees feel weak as he replies.

“Iskall, I swear I didn’t. They found out I was supporting you guys and they used me as bait- I didn’t write the letter, it wasn’t me, I didn’t know .”

Iskall’s mouth is set in a hard line as he glares at Grian. Keralis, next to him, crosses his arms.

“Bubbles better be okay. That’s all I will say.”

Grian gulps, and nods. 

“Don’t worry, guys. It’s gonna be okay, we’ll get out of here. It looks like the Greyskins didn’t hear us.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that...”

Grian whirls around to see Cub and Ren advancing on them, holding out wickedly sharp diamond swords. There’s matching malicious grins on both of their faces as they approach. 

He feels Iskall touch his arm, and glances back as Iskall hands him another sword, and the three of them face the two greyskins, determined to survive.

“None of you are going to escape here, you realise that, right?”

Says Cub, fingers tracing the bow at his back. 

“Even if you try to fly away, don’t forget. We’ve got wings too. And bows.”

“W-we  will  defeat you.”

Keralis says shakily. At Grian’s side he holds out his own bow, knocking an arrow into it slowly.

Ren smiles lazily and holds up his sword.

“We’ll see about that.”

He charges, Keralis’s arrow whizzing past his shoulder.

Grian steps forward, bringing up his sword to clash with Ren’s, whirling around to try and get him when he’s not expecting it, but Ren’s too quick and he dodges. Behind him he can hear Cub and Iskall fighting, metal screeching and clashing.

Ren’s sword smashes against his, and Grian grits his teeth, heaving Ren backwards away from him. They take a moment and then Ren lunges again, slashing towards Grian’s shoulder. He blocks, parrying the sword away, breathing hard. Ren doesn’t stop though, swinging low for Grian’s legs as he stumbles back, feeling tiredness begin to creep at the corners of his body. He’s definitely not used to all this swordfighting stuff.

But Ren is. He roars; swinging and swiping, lurching forward and stepping back over the rough roof.

Grian makes a break for it, dropping his guard for just a second, slashing across Ren’s arm.

He falters, pain flickering across his dark eyes. Grian feels the cold wind at his back, the edge of the roof below his heel, the weight of the sword in his hands. 

Then Ren snarls, charging forward, and Grian dives to the side, pitching himself out of the way of Ren’s blade.

Ren lets out a roar as he tumbles over the edge of the building, sword flying out of his hand. Grian doesn’t stop to look down, doesn’t stop to think about what he’d just done, just turns to see how Iskall, Cub and Keralis are doing.

And he’s a second too late. 

Keralis cries out, clutching a wound in his stomach, as Iskall falls to his knees, Cub’s sword buried in his chest.

“ISKALL, NO-“

Grian’s running before he has time to process it. He runs at Cub with all that anger, all that terror directed straight at him, sword out.

But Cub’s too good. 

He parries Grian’s attack easily, smirking as he steps out of the way of Grian’s rage. He tumbled forward, barely managing to stop himself and turn towards Cub, sword held out in front of him.

“YOU! How can you do these things to your friends?!”

Grian realises tears are streaming down his face as he screams at Cub.

“Grian, it’s Demise. As I’ve said before, this is what Greyskins do-“

“NO! You would never have done this when you were alive. NEVER! Why is it any different when you’re grey?”

Cub tilts his head to the side.

“Why, Grian, I thought you knew... it’s the magic of demise!”

“Then RESIST IT!” Grian cries out, almost begging. “ _Resist it!_ ”

Cub moves quicker that Grian has thought possible. He wraps his hand around Grian’s throat, lifting him up into he air, knocking away his sword. His eyes are wild as he grins.

“You wanna know a secret?” Cub says as Grian chokes, fingers scraping weakly at his hand. “I _can_ resist it. But this is more fun.” 

He laughs, and it sends spikes of fear right through Grian’s chest. Bike rises in his throat as he struggles to breathe.

“...C-cu-ub-...”

Cub smirks, tilting his head.

“Yes, Traitor?”

“... look.... u-up...”

Cub glances up, confused. 

That’s all the distraction Mumbo needs.

He slams into Cub, knocking Grian out of his grasp, who tumbles to the side, shakily climbing to his feet as he watches Mumbo try to grab Cub.

“Grian! Help! His elytra!”

Mumbo yells, fingers scraping at the straps of Cub’s wings. Cub snarls at him, flailing around with his sword, narrowly missing Mumbo’s face. Grian leaps forward to get at the other strap and deftly works it undone, using his momentum to push Cub further towards the edge of the roof. 

Mumbo locks eyes with him, squeezes his hand, and pushes off Cub, elytra carrying him back to safety on the roof. 

Cub teeters at the edge, Grian still on his back, hands shaking as he tries to undo the last strap. Cub makes eye contact with him, and Grian’s heart is in his mouth as Cub realises that Grian doesn’t have an elytra either.

If they fall, they’ll both die.

For a second they freeze like that, on the edge of the roof.

And then Grian grits his teeth and pulls them both over the edge. Mumbo screams.

—————

“GRIAN, NO-“

He doesn’t have an elytra, that idiot! What was he thinking, pulling Cub over the edge?

Mumbo dashes forwards, hands shaking, tears pooling in his eyes, falling to his knees at the edge of the roof. Below him, there’s just deep fog and darkness shrouding the swamp, and no sign of Cub or Grian.

“ Grian!”  Mumbo cries out, voice wrecked. Shakily, he climbs to his feet, readying his elytra to dive down and see what happened; to see if Cub died, to see if Grian-

There’s a whoosh of air, and the Mumbo’s breath leaves him as a shape soars up from down below, whooping with joy.

“ Grian!” 

Grian does a flip in midair, wearing Cub’s elytra, and then barrels straight towards Mumbo.

“Mumbo!”

They collide on the roof, collapsing into a heap, breathless and joyful and  _alive_.  It hits Mumbo like a punch as he lays there on the roof, looking up at Grian;  he’s _alive_. 

Well, he’s more alive. There’s pink in his cheeks and colour is starting to creep into his skin. 

_And he looks beautiful_.

Grian’s looking at him, hands splayed on his chest, wings spread out behind him. And Mumbo can feel it in his chest, that fluttering, that thumping.

“Mumbo, I-”

Mumbo kisses him.

He reaches up and grabs him by the sweater, and Grian smiles into the kiss as Mumbo’s hands wrap around his waist and he decides he never wants to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iskall and Keralis are fine dw!  
> Also thanks for reading, merry Christmas and Happy holidays too :)


End file.
